


Delusions of Importance

by fraufi666



Series: Fall From Grace [2]
Category: Neighbours (TV), Political RPF - Australian 20th-21st c., Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c., Print Journalism RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Politics, Authority Figures, Can be a stand alone fic or read after previous fic, Crack, Crossover, Delusions, Homophobia, M/M, Mental Instability, NHS, Nudity, Politics, Reference to coronavirus, Romance, Sexual Content, ill health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27818311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraufi666/pseuds/fraufi666
Summary: After having his heart broken by Tony Abbott, Boris Johnson’s health rapidly declines. All hope is lost until the British Prime Minister encounters a face that could change the coronavirus campaign and win him more support from the public. When Johnson falls for the soap opera star, he becomes completely unaware that others in his government do not share his approval. Unable to tell the difference between the soap opera character and the real actor, Johnson is swept away by delusions. Are these delusions a cover for a deeper, underlying issue?
Relationships: Boris Johnson/Alan Fletcher, Tony Abbott/Boris Johnson
Series: Fall From Grace [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035591
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is an AU. Although I have used real people and political figures this is entirely a work of fiction. All romantic encounters, events and insinuations are from my imagination. I mean no disrespect to any of the people depicted. I am also in no way politically biased.  
> This story very briefly refers to episode 8454 when Karl Kennedy gets into trouble for hoarding discounted items in the Kennedy household. See link below for scene. 
> 
> https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x7wanu2

He woke up to the sound of beeps and low hums that emanated from the machines around him. A figure rushed to his side. Boris Johnson blinked, his eyes slowly adjusting to his surroundings.

“Prime Minister, can you hear me? It’s Dr Morris. You’re in the Royal London Hospital. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Three blurry fingers were held in front of his dazed eyes.

“Three.” He replied hoarsely. The other man’s face began to come into focus. Half of it was covered by a face mask, so he could not recognise him.

“Very good, Prime Minister. Now, can you remember the last thing you did before you woke up?”

Johnson slowly sat up, the white room of the hospital now clearer to him and in focus. Briefly, he recalled firing Tony Abbott, before having to do a press conference on why he chose to get rid of him. A memory of the Australian politician kissing him on the lips flashed back in his mind.

“Yes.” He responded, “I collapsed. But I’m really okay now. It’s doubtful that I have the coronavirus again.”

Dr Morris shook his head, dissatisfied with the politician’s response. “I’m afraid we can’t let you out just yet. Your body is still in shock and we’ll need to keep watch over you in case symptoms return.”

“This is ridiculous! I am the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom! You can’t keep me in here. I must be back at Number Ten, where I can do my job.”

“Unfortunately it is the rules. Now please sir, lie down and try to get some rest.”

Before Johnson could argue, the doctor turned and left the room.

Johnson sighed in disappointment. What was he going to do? He hated sitting still while things were still chaotic in the House of Commons. Plus, the Opposition would merely use this as a chance to say that the Prime Minister was avoiding his duty. He couldn’t let that happen.

The TV overhead began to play a cheesy tune from a TV show. Johnson could have sworn he had heard it before.

_Neighbours,_

_Everybody needs good neighbours,_

With some difficulty, Johnson managed to prop a pillow behind his back so he could sit up properly to get a decent view.

_With a little understanding,_

_You can find the perfect blend…_

He raised his eyebrows. The tune was definitely familiar to him. It was an Australian soap opera that he used to see briefly on the television when he was young. But now, any reminder of that country only added torment to his heartbreak. He wondered how Abbott was, and whether or not he was surviving from all of the flack he was no doubt receiving from the media. Did he really deserve it?

Johnson crossed his arms. Of course he did. That man took advantage of him, despite being promised to take over from him. But, as much as he hated how he cheated on him, a part of him could not help but to love him.

He was momentarily distracted out of his thoughts as he spotted one of the characters arguing with his on-screen wife: Dr Karl Kennedy. The Australian accent was grating on his ears, but he did enjoy how much baffled he looked when his wife refused to let him store some goods he tried to hoard in the house. He found himself laughing to the show. Even though things were so dire at the moment, seeing these silly Australians argue over domestic issues put a smile to his face. The man, although slightly chubby looked quite jovial and kind. Such a face and a character like that gave him an idea. He made a mental note to look up the actor later.

After the episode had finished, Johnson picked up his phone from the bedside table and did a quick google search on the character on Neighbours. Quickly, he began to ring up the Health Secretary for a Zoom call on his phone.

Matt Hancock looked baffled that Johnson had the energy to even get up. His concerned face peered back at him on the screen.

“Now you are probably wondering why I’ve called you today, Matt.” Johnson said, “But I’ve just had the most extraordinary idea. We must get in touch with Australia immediately!”

“I thought what happened with Mr Abbott was a failure, Prime Minister.” Hancock pointed out in confusion.

Johnson shook his head quickly. “No, it’s not about him. It’s about the National Health Service. Now, you know how everyone loves a good doctor, right?”

“I’m not sure I follow-”

“Hear me out.” Johnson interrupted, getting slightly impatient. “Now, the city of Melbourne have a Dr Brett Sutton, while the United States have Dr Fauci. _We_ need a special Doctor too for the NHS to get the people motivated while we try and take preventative measures for coronavirus. And the British certainly seem to love Dr Karl Kennedy*.”

“Hold on, Prime Minister…” Hancock interjected, frowning “I don’t think there’s such a thing as a Dr Karl Kennedy.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never watched television in your life!” Johnson exclaimed. “Dr Karl Kennedy from that Australian soap opera, _Neighbours_.”

“Yes, I know what that show is. But Prime Minister, he’s not a real doctor. It’ll be misleading to the public if we present an actor for the NHS. And it’ll be my head on the chopping block if things go wrong.”

“Nonsense! People love that show over here. Now please, do the job I’ve appointed you for and bring him over here right away.” Johnson demanded, his voice harsh. As Hancock was about to give another explanation, the Prime Minister logged off.

He looked back the photograph he had saved of the kindly doctor on his phone. There was a slight smile on his sickly face.

Everything was going to work out well, he could feel it.


	2. Chapter 2

After much pestering, Alan Fletcher was brought into Number Ten Downing Street. He still was puzzled about how his role as a doctor on an Australian soap opera would bear any importance for the NHS, but he did not want to let down many of the UK fans. With some reluctance, Hancock led him into the Prime Minister’s bedroom. Johnson lay on the bed, his peroxide blond mop as bedraggled as ever. As soon as he saw the actor, his eyes lit up immediately.

“Doctor Karl Kennedy! I’m so happy to see you.”

The Australian chuckled, “Well, actually it’s Al-”

“I’m so glad you can make it. Now do you have any doctor’s clothes available to wear?” Johnson interjected.

“I’m sorry?” The actor asked in confusion.

The Prime Minister laughed, thinking this was all part of the character. “You are good.” He said, pointing at him. “I think we’ll get along quite famously, don’t you? How’s Susan doing? I saw you two had a bit of an argument recently. Such a fiery lady. I do love redheads myself.”

Fletcher looked at the Health Secretary who just shrugged his shoulders. He decided the best thing to do was play along with whatever the Prime Minister believed.

“Yes, Susan is very well, thank you for asking. She’s not the biggest fan of your policies, but she does love your wonderful nation. We’ll come over here one day for a holiday.”

Johnson beamed. “How terrific. But I only need you for NHS.” He turned to Hancock, “Now go and see if you can get some medical equipment. A white coat, face mask…perhaps some latex gloves?”

“Sir, I-” The Heath Secretary began,

“Chop, chop. We need to get this campaign sorted.” Johnson urged. Hancock sighed, gave a nod and then left the room without another word.

Johnson turned back at his guest.

“Please, take a seat.” He said, gesturing to the foot of the bed, “I don’t bite.”

“Prime Minister…I’m really not quite sure if it’s safe enough to do so. You’re still recovering.”

“The doctors said that the symptoms haven’t come back.” Johnson explained, “I just need to take it easy.”

The Australian went over to sit gingerly at the foot of the bed. Johnson smiled at his obedience.

“I admit, I haven’t watched your show for long, but is it true that you had an affair with your wife?”

“Yes…” Fletcher admitted awkwardly, “But it was a very long time ago.”

“We’ve all been there.” Johnson chuckled. Yet his smile faded as he remembered the last time Abbott lay beside him on the same bed. It was the affair that ruined his life, for it meant nothing to Abbott who was already seeing someone else. “I must say,” Johnson said quietly after a brief moment of silence, “How did Susan cope after you cheated on her?”

“Well….” Fletcher sighed, his shoulders drooping. “She was very upset. Justifiably so. But we’ve both been through so much. Good communication is what keeps us together.”

“You’re so lucky you have that.” Johnson said wistfully, gazing at the kindly man, “I only wish I could have the same thing one day.”

“But you’re married, aren’t you?” Fletcher asked in confusion.

The Prime Minister gave an awkward smile. This was the first time he had really thought about his own marriage. Politics was such a lonely occupation, and it sometimes felt as if he were still a bachelor.

“Divorced twice. But I am currently engaged, yes.” Johnson answered. This was the first time he had properly opened up about his love life to anyone. Fletcher just seemed like the sort of person who he could trust. He sat up on the bed, threading his fingers together on top of the blanket. “I barely ever get to see her though, with this job and all. Power was always something I wanted for a long time…but you have to make sacrifices for it, too. You get so lonely, so miserable working in that sort of atmosphere. Even, to the point when you end up making alliances you shouldn’t be making.”

There was some shock on the actor’s face. “What do you mean?”

Johnson closed his eyes, knowing that he had said too much. Perhaps, Fletcher was not the one he should be disclosing such information with.

“I’m feeling quite faint, Karl. Would you mind giving me some space?”

The Australian nodded, before quickly adding a hesitant “Yes”, realising that the politician would not be able to see his expression.

“See you later, Prime Minister.”


	3. Chapter 3

The very next day, much to the Prime Minister’s insistence, Fletcher was to stand in the press conference room, dressed in a white coat with a stethoscope and latex gloves. The camera crew stood around, making sure to capture the actor’s best angles.

An anxious scriptwriter managed to get the lines ready on the teleprompt for Fletcher. “Now, Mr Fletcher.” She said, pointing at the teleprompt, “Just read the lines here and act natural.”

“I _know_ how to read teleprompts.” Fletcher responded back through gritted teeth. With the way these spin doctors acted, it was as if he had never acted in his life. But he saw how hopeful the Prime Minister looked as he stood from afar, watching him. He could not stuff this up. One of the cameramen counted down, then doing a thumbs up to indicate that they being filmed.

“Good Morning, Britain.” Fletcher said in a confident tone. “I am your friendly Ramsey Street Doctor, Karl Kennedy and I ask each and every one of you to please socially distance, sanitise your hands thoroughly, wear a mask and get tested if you show any signs of the coronavirus symptoms. This includes-”

“Cut cut cut!” Johnson cried out, startling the crew. He walked up to the actor, shaking his head. “You’re relying on the teleprompt far too much, Dr Karl. Be a bit more natural. You do an excellent job of this on _Neighbours_ already.”

“I’m sorry, Prime Minister, but this is all a bit much for me. I hardly ever wear a stethoscope on the show myself.” Fletcher explained nervously, “Can’t we just get rid of some of the props? I’d feel so much better if I could just do things the way I do them on the show.”

Johnson turned at the scriptwriter. “Well you heard him!” He barked, “Get that ridiculous teleprompt away!”

A costume designer quickly came on the set to remove the stethoscope from Fletcher.

“Alright. We’ll start this again.” Johnson said to the cameraman.

Finally, after a number of painstakingly exhausting hours, the Prime Minister was satisfied with what was being filmed. The video editors scrambled together to get it ready to be broadcasted on TV. After all, it was hitting the prime time hour and they had to be sure to have it shown around the time when most people would be tuned in. Johnson felt so cheerful after seeing the final clip, asking the editors to provide him with a file of it for himself. He sat down to watch it on his laptop when he was back in Number Ten.

The advertisement started off with some light-hearted music before showing Fletcher wearing his white doctor’s coat, his kindly dark eyes staring directly into the camera.

“Hello from your friendly Ramsey Street Doctor, Dr Karl Kennedy. I’m hoping that all of you take care to reduce the spread of coronavirus through a number of steps.” He held up his fingers as he listed each step, “One, make sure to sanitise your hands after coughing or sneezing. Two, make sure you wear a mask at all times. Three, maintain social distancing…”

Johnson smiled, so glad to see the actor in his element. He always seemed the most natural as he played as that character.

“…By doing the right thing, you can ensure that you and your neighbours are safe and sound.” Fletcher concluded. The cheesy theme song of _Neighbours_ began to play in the background briefly before the clip ended.

“I love it!” Johnson shouted, startling Fletcher as he walked into the room. “You are the perfect face for this campaign.”

The Australian chuckled modestly, “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

The Prime Minister stood up from his desk, walked over to the actor and grabbed the back of his head, staring deeply into his eyes.

“No. You really _are_ perfect.” Johnson said. In all of his exhilaration from the video, combined with the loneliness he had felt since Abbott had left, he knew that what he was saying was the truth. There had been a gaping hole left in his heart when Abbott betrayed him. But now, he was standing face to face with someone who would help him to win over the public. While the former Australian Prime Minister dashed his hopes and pushed him into the darkness, Fletcher was a new beacon of light and hope. Johnson could not stop himself as he leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips.

Fletcher recoiled in horror.

“I-I can’t do this.” He stammered worriedly, looking around the office as if someone else was in the room, “My wife would be furious.”

“What Susan doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Johnson replied, caressing him on the cheek. Fletcher remained in place. “What I said earlier still stands.” He continued, “I always wanted someone to help me in one of the loneliest jobs in the world. And…you came.” Watching Fletcher’s nervousness, he frowned and let go. “Unless…you don’t feel the same?”

Quickly, Fletcher took hold of his hand. “No, I _do_ , Prime Minister. I just can’t help but wonder how it will affect your position.” He shyly leaned inwards, giving a soft smile, “Suppose we _did_ embark on something more together. Would we be able to keep this a secret from prying eyes? I can’t imagine it would do any good for my reputation too, especially amongst the Labour voters who tune in to _Neighbours_.”

There was a goofy smile on Johnson’s face as Fletcher ran his other hand through the bleach blond mop. “Being secretive is my middle name, Karl. I just want you…only you.”

“Oh, Boris…” Fletcher sighed, as the politician pushed him against the wall, kissing his neck hungrily. His encounter with Abbott felt like nothing but a distant memory. In an instant, the two removed their clothes. Normally, the Prime Minister would feel awkward about revealing his body to a stranger, but it felt like they had known each other for a long time. He also felt some comfort in knowing that his lover shared his slightly plump, middle-aged physique, yet still ravaged him passionately as if he were still in his prime.

Johnson lay down on the bed, Fletcher embracing him from behind. He could feel the other man’s erection pushing against his buttocks. He sighed as he felt his length inside him as the actor made his way into him gently. It was slightly nostalgic lying in the same position, having yet another Australian inside him, yet this time it felt different and more certain. As he closed his eyes, he briefly remembered Abbott’s grunting within his ear while Fletcher continued to penetrate him, getting more worked up with each movement. Johnson moaned as he visualised Abbott’s toned arms embracing him, rather than the soft, fleshy arms of the actor. Did he miss him? It was possible, but he enjoyed every moment.

After the two men had finally came together, Fletcher had rolled over to sleep. He began to snore loudly, exhausted from all of the work he had done today with the NHS. Johnson turned around, propping himself up on his elbows as he watched the actor snore. There was a slight sadness as he traced Fletcher’s sleeping face lightly with his fingertips, knowing that this was not the same as being with the man who had broken his heart.

Quickly, he pushed the thought out of his head as he rested his arm against the other man’s chest, before closing his eyes and falling asleep. Tomorrow would be a new day.


	4. Chapter 4

As expected, the advertisement had been received well by the British people. Emails began to pour in from excited fans who wanted to see more advertisements from Karl Kennedy, some even asking to meet him.

“You’re a very popular man, Karl.” Johnson remarked as he looked at the most recent fan letter. “Maybe a meet and greet should be arranged.”

“You’re still recovering, Boris.” Fletcher responded with concern, “I think we should take things easy for a while until you are at top health again.”

Johnson’s eyes lit up, “You’re a genius!” He cried, leaping up from his chair to clap the man’s cheeks, “ _You_ could do my press conferences for me!”

The colour of the actor’s face drained as he realised the ramifications of his words. “Oh, Prime Minister…I don’t think this is possible. I’m hardly a public servant!”

“That’s all the more reason for you to do it!” Johnson cried, pacing around the room madly in excitement that it made Fletcher anxious. “People don’t care to see stuffy politicians delivering depressing news. They would however love a celebrity to do it for them! It would be like watching _Neighbours_ twenty-four seven!” He smiled, gazing out into the gloomy London streetscape, completely oblivious to how dismal the outside world was. The delusions were providing so much light and hope that reality no longer seemed so sad anymore. Johnson sat back down in his chair, reaching over to get his phone. “I’ll get Hancock – Our Health Secretary – to brief you on all the things you have to say. You’ll be completely informed on all of the cases of coronavirus!”

Fletcher tried to think up on a polite reason to turn down the Prime Minister, but Johnson quickly grabbed hold of his face, smiling widely at him.

“I need you, Dr Karl Kennedy.” He said, “But most importantly, our nation needs you. Please don’t let us down.”

The actor swallowed the words he was about to say.

“I’ll do my best,” was all he could manage to muster.

In the next couple of hours, Hancock briefed Fletcher on everything he needed to know about the coronavirus statistics. He stood awkwardly in the press conference room, several different cameras on him that he felt so small. Fletcher gulped, but given his ability to remember his character’s lines, applied the same technique to the coronavirus cases. Despite all of his nerves, he managed to crack a warm, natural smile as he spoke calmly to the camera, still wearing his doctor’s costume.

Johnson watched the TV with pride. This was just the thing needed to revitalise his leadership. Perhaps now more _Neighbours_ fans would start voting Conservative. Fletcher was eloquent and clear and in the coming days, it was revealed that more viewers were tuning in for press conferences.

At the same time, Johnson was slowly getting his strength back. On the order of doctors, the Prime Minister was to do some physical activity for an hour a day. Although they suggested him to see a personal trainer, Johnson refused, instead only preferring Fletcher to accompany him on jogs.

“I’ve got to get back to Australia soon.” Fletcher tried to explain, but the Prime Minister would hear none of it.

“Come on, Karl. Just a jog! You used to be such a fanatic cyclist on Ramsey Street! What happened?”

Fletcher sighed, hating that this man was insistent on believing that he was the fictional character.

“Alright. We’ll go for a jog.” Fletcher gave in.

The London weather was still miserable and cold, but at least there was a glimmer of a sunrise as they went for a run. In the dawning light, morning dew glistened on the blades of grass at Hyde Park. Most of the Londoners were still fast asleep and Johnson wished that he was too. But this was the only time that they could go out in public together without rousing any suspicion from the tabloids.

Johnson puffed and puffed with exhaustion, struggling to keep up with the actor.

“Good lord, you’re too fit for me!” He panted. “Just like the last Australian I was with…”

Fletcher spun around in surprise at the last sentence, wondering if he had misheard. “What?”

Johnson blushed, thankful that the light was too poor for the actor to see his expression. “Oh nothing. Carry on. I’ll catch up with you soon!”

As soon as Fletcher was in the distance, Johnson gradually caught his breath. He wondered why he was thinking of Abbott all the time. That man had brought him so much heartache and pain. He _used_ him. But he continued to haunt his mind, especially once he was spending time with Fletcher. Johnson tried to forget him as he managed to pick up his pace.

Eventually, he caught up with Fletcher. The actor looked at the Prime Minister with disapproval when he saw how exhausted he looked.

“We’ll have to go on more jogs if this is how unfit you are.” The Australian scolded.

As long as Fletcher was by his side, Johnson could not think of anything better.


	5. Chapter 5

One morning when Johnson awoke, he saw Fletcher watching the iPad, dismay clear on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Johnson asked, still half asleep as he rolled out of bed, donning on his dressing gown.

“It’s just some Australian journalist. Nothing to be worried about.” Fletcher said dismissively, trying to hide the screen.

But from spending so many years in the public service, it was not so easy to hide things from the politician. To Fletcher’s shock, he snatched the device from his hand, looking at the screen.

It was footage from the talk show _Good Morning Britain_. Johnson was so familiar with it, having collapsed on set from what felt like a long time ago. But it was not the show that unnerved him, but the person who was on it.

Andrew Bolt, right-wing commentator sat in the chair, throwing his hands in the air dramatically.

“It’s just madness, how much the left have infiltrated everything. We used to be able to watch a TV show without the gays shoving everything into our face. The media have become nothing but Marxist puppets, pushing forward their ideology and censoring us who dare to speak commonsense. Now, it seems as if the _Prime Minister_ , from one of the most powerful nations of the world, is being controlled by some D-grade actor from a show that even my grandparents can’t stand to watch anymore.”

“Why do you listen to this rubbish?” Johnson asked, putting down the iPad and turning to Fletcher. His hand rested gently on the actor’s shoulder, “It’s just some no-name journalist trying to make things big for himself because barely anyone reads his columns anymore.”

“He’s not just some no-name journalist.” Fletcher responded urgently, “He’s had significant influence on the media back home.” His eyes were full of alarm as he gazed at Johnson. “Don’t you see? He could try and discredit me…us!” He scrambled to his feet; “Maybe it’s for the best if I head back.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Johnson barked, standing up himself. He grabbed hold of both Fletcher’s hands, gazing into his eyes intently. “I _need_ you, Karl. You even said yourself that my health hasn’t been the greatest and if I come out now for press conferences, good lord knows what will happen to me. The approval polls have skyrocketed since you’ve started helping me. Now if I could keep you as a member of my staff, I would be eternally grateful.”

“I can’t-” Fletcher tried to say, but Johnson silenced him with a tender kiss, pulling him close. Fletcher began to untie Johnson’s robe, allowing it to fall to the floor before stripping off himself and then climbing into the bed together. As the two began to make love, Bolt continued to ramble on.

“It’s like the Romanovs all over again! The left want a revolution and now they are turning to their own film stars to try and shift policy to communism.”

“And if the Prime Minister were here right now, what would you say to him?” The reporter asked as a matter of fact.

“Wake up Boris. Look at what the left is doing to you. Get back to doing your job, because this coronavirus nonsense is just blowing things out of proportion and making the Western world into a police state.”

But with his eyes closed as Fletcher began to kiss downwards, Johnson barely noticed the other man’s snarls. He was too busy shaking in pleasure, causing the iPad to slip off the blanket onto the floor.   
  
~

An hour later, Fletcher stood in the press conference room. It was a smooth session, up until the end when a young male journalist who had been watching _Good Morning Britain_ had asked him a question.

“Is it true that you are seeking to replace the Prime Minister?”

The room had gone deadly quiet and Fletcher shifted his weight from one foot to another in nervousness, completely taken aback by such a question. He laughed awkwardly.

“No, no. I am only here to take care of things until the Prime Minister has recovered to full health.” Fletcher responded. He could see the journalists before him making notes and hoped that his answer would suffice.

“But since you have been here, the approval polls for the Conservatives have skyrocketed.” The journalist continued to press, “For a man your age, I doubt you’d want to stay as some soap opera character for the rest of your life.”

Fletcher could feel himself perspire under the gaze of many eyes. These journalists were demanding and he knew that no answer was worse than some sort of answer. He did not want to think of what the media would fill with the gaps he left them.

“My colleague Stefan Dennis would say otherwise.” Fletcher pointed out, thinking quickly. “I love my job and just want to ensure that the precautions of the coronavirus are carried effectively before I return back to Australia to resume filming.”

“Sir, how would you describe the nature of your relationship with the Prime Minister?” A female journalist asked.

“How is this relevant to anything?” Fletcher asked defensively.

“Why don’t you want to talk about it? Are you trying to hide something?” The journalist continued.

Desperately, Fletcher turned to the Health Secretary for assistance. Hancock mouthed, “Keep going.”

“Well I-I help him for his press conferences and to ensure he is healthy enough to work again.” Fletcher stammered, “That is all.”

But the journalists were like hungry vultures descending on him. Despite giving them something, they hungered for more information. This was far too much pressure than what Fletcher had been used to, and the longer he stood around, the more vicious they became. He lacked the same kind of stamina that a politician would have for such grueling questions.

“There’s nothing going on!” He cried hopelessly, and to the shock of everyone, he bolted out of the room.

The Health Secretary managed to find him standing next to the water cooler, having calmed down considerably.

“Look, Alan…Karl…whatever your name is…” Hancock said, looking impatient after that fiasco on TV, “When the Prime Minister gives you a job, you are to follow it through, no questions asked. Acting up like this makes not only you look bad, but the rest of the party. Johnson is going to be dismayed.”

“I’ve had it up to here!” Fletcher cried, the composure he had regained gone in a second. He took a step closer, “All this bullying is so unnecessary, I don’t even want to do this job again!”

“Then leave.” Hancock responded coldly, “There’s no use in you staying here if all you’re going to do is make a fuss.”

But Fletcher remembered the tired, pale face of Johnson as he lay on the bed. He was still not healthy and he could not risk leaving the man he loved in the lurch.

Johnson’s words continued to sound in his head so vividly; it was as if the Prime Minister were in the same room as him.

_I need you, Dr Karl Kennedy…But most importantly, our nation needs you._

He decided he would keep going for Johnson’s sake.


	6. Chapter 6

Meanwhile, as Fletcher continued to hold press conferences, Hancock snuck out of the room to make a phone call with Johnson. The Prime Minister was still half-asleep as he answered the phone.

“What’s going on?” Johnson asked sluggishly. “Is Dr Karl doing a splendid job as always?”

To Hancock’s surprise, it seemed that Johnson had not seen Fletcher’s breakdown on live television.

“Quite the contrary, Prime Minister. Actually, I think this is as good as time as ever to get someone more capable for the job. As I said, I would be more than happy to hold the press conferences instead, while Mr Fletcher goes back home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Matt. You’re not a doctor.”

“But, but neither is he!” Hancock cried impatiently, “He’s just some actor!”

“Nonsense, he’s Dr Karl Kennedy and he’s done such great work on Ramsey Street.”

Hancock’s eyes widened, startled at how deluded the Prime Minister was, “Boris, he’s just an actor. And if you don’t see that, it’s probably best that you take time off until you recover.”

“I don’t need to hear this.” Johnson responded angrily, not wanting to see the truth in this situation. This delusion was the only distraction from keeping him from thinking about his heartbreak. Reality was too cold and hard for him to stomach. He could not face it, not now, perhaps not ever.

“Snap out of it, Prime Minister.” Hancock scolded, startling Johnson. “You can’t keep living in a make-believe world. Christ, the whole nation’s at stake here. People’s lives will be affected. Our country is becoming a laughing stock to the world, and other members of right around the world are speaking out against it. I’ve always been against Alan Fletcher being involved in government procedure. So either you get rid of him, or expect that your time at Number Ten will be short-lived.”

Johnson gasped, clenching the phone in terror. “What are you saying?! Are you threatening me? Are you after my job, is that what?”

There was a tired sigh on the phone. Hancock continued, his voice slightly more gentle than before. “Boris, I just want you to see what you are doing before it’s too late. These delusions you have about the importance of this man are just maddening.”

Before Johnson could say another word, the Health Secretary hung up.

After finding footage of the press conference from early on, he called Fletcher to come to Number Ten. The actor arrived promptly, although he looked slightly sheepish given the events from earlier that day.

Johnson’s back was towards him as he looked out of the window.

“Is it true that you had a nervous breakdown on live television?” He asked, his voice grim as he hoped that perhaps the footage he saw was a figment of his imagination too.

Fletcher gingerly walked over to the desk, too nervous to get too close to the Prime Minister. “Y-yes.” He said finally. “I’m sorry, it’s just that the pressure was getting to me.” But upon saying this, he quickly remembered the horrible exchange he had with Hancock. Whatever he said, he could not prove this man right. “I still want to make this work, Boris. I’ll do more conferences until I have to fly back to Australia early next week.”

Johnson turned around, his eyes slightly teary. “I hope so, Karl. I really hope so.” His hands were trembling as he wringed them together, both out of ill health and anxiety. He walked towards Fletcher, putting a hand on his. “You know, you’re about the only good thing in my life right now.”

Fletcher’s brow knotted in concern. Was it worth perhaps ringing up Fremantle Media and asking if they could shorten his contract?

The two men said nothing as they stood in the office, arms tightly around each other as if frightened they would be pulled apart at any moment.

But nothing could prepare them for what would happen next.


	7. Chapter 7

When Fletcher was briefed on the most recent statistics, he was completely unaware of the sly smile from the Health Secretary as he went up on stage to deliver the most recent reports. Fortunately the annoying reporters from the other day were no longer in the audience, allowing him to focus on coronavirus specifically.

It was only after questions were asked that Fletcher began to feel dread.

“Apologies, but the statistics you’re telling us are completely different to what is on the NHS website.” One of the reporters said.

Fletcher felt his cheeks burn, “No, that can’t be right.” He blustered anxiously, rifling through his notes, “These _are_ from the NHS.”

“Perhaps, it is better to leave the actual experts to do the job, rather than celebrities.” He heard someone else say in the crowd.

“There must be some kind of mistake.” Fletcher said, hoping to calm down the audience, “I’ll speak to the Health Secretary about it.”

Hancock came up on stage, much to Fletcher’s relief. He turned to him for help, but the politician’s eyes merely regarded him with only callousness. Fletcher felt his heart sink. This man was not here to save him…he was the architect of the actor’s destruction.

“Well done for this cock-up.” Hancock whispered menacingly in his ear, before taking his place on the stage, a fake smile plastered on his face.

Full of rage, shock and confusion, Fletcher made his way back to Number Ten in haste. On the way, he pushed past crowds of irritating paparazzi, who were now even more excited by this recent blunder on national television. The questions continued to bombard him, as he desperately made his escape.

“Mr Fletcher, is it true that you are giving up your acting career to become part of Johnson’s cabinet?” A microphone was shoved into his face, to which he pushed it aside.

“How close are you to the Prime Minister?”

“Are you going to take down the Conservative Party through foreign influences?”

Panting from exhaustion, Fletcher wiped the sweat from his brow as he went into the building, shutting the door firmly behind him so the crowd could not get any closer. He was startled to see the Prime Minister standing upright, looking considerably healthier. Or at least, more aware.

“Boris…” Fletcher reached out to touch him, needy for his embrace, “I’m so sorry about all of this.”

But Johnson was no longer so receptive to his advances. The politician pulled away.

“I saw what happened.” Johnson said sternly. “Why did you do it? You’ve made a complete mockery of me.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Fletcher tried to say, “The notes they gave me must have been tampered with.”

But Johnson did not care to listen to what the man had to say. “Is it true that you said you didn’t want to do this job again?”

 _Hancock was such a swine._ Fletcher realised. He must have been planning for this for a while.

“I had my doubts…but I still care about you.” Fletcher admitted, moving closer to the politician.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were unhappy?” Johnson asked, their noses almost touching.

“I couldn’t let you down, Boris. You know I’d do anything for you.” Fletcher said, leaning in, his lips only inches away from the Prime Minister’s.

“Except tell the truth.” Johnson responded, taking a step back. He was beginning to feel a sense of déjà vu. Why was it that the men he had fallen for continued to lie and trick him? His head was spinning and he had to sit down.

“Please, give me another chance…I will end my contract with _Neighbours_ if that’s what you want.” Fletcher pleaded.

“And risk having my leadership undermined?!” Johnson asked indignantly, his eyes blazing. “I already made that mistake once and I’ll be damned if I make that mistake again.” He assessed the actor carefully, disbelief in his eyes, the delusion shattered. “Are you even a real doctor?”

“Well no, but that’s what I’ve been trying to say-“ Fletcher admitted frantically, getting exasperated by the politician’s stubbornness.

“You’re fired, effective immediately.”

“Good.” Fletcher murmured finally, so hurt he wanted to give the politician a taste of his own medicine, to show him what he was missing. “I don’t want this crappy job anyway. All you Tories are nothing but liars.”

The words stung and Johnson wobbled, reaching out to grab hold of the other man for support.

“Please don’t leave me Tony.” He blurted out weakly, the feelings he had been trying to hide for weeks now spilling out beyond his control.

There was some sorrow in the dark eyes of the once kindly doctor. The whole time he had been used as nothing but a replacement for the man who broken Johnson’s heart. This was far worse than any humiliation he had endured during the press conferences. He could no longer feel any more respect for the Prime Minister anymore, for he was being deceitful with him too. Johnson was nothing but a hypocrite.

“Sort out your own life, Johnson.” Fletcher said, turning back to the door to brave the vicious crowds once more. “I’m done.”

His vision blurry with tears, Johnson scrambled weakly to the bedroom, picking up his phone. His hand was shaking as he decided to finally make contact with the issue he had been avoiding.

“Tony…” Johnson said.

“Finally come to your senses and ridded yourself of that no-good actor?” Abbott asked, his voice still bitter from the cruel way Johnson had cast him aside. The Australian’s smug self-knowledge made Johnson realise very quickly that Bolt’s presence on _Good Morning Britain_ was no coincidence.

“I did it for you.” Johnson confessed. “Just as you had sent that dreadful journalist.”

There was a slight chuckle. “I guess we’re even then.”

“Yes, I guess we are.”

There was quietness in the room as Johnson caressed the phone, a smile on his tired face as he felt relief in hearing Abbott’s voice again. They were worlds away from the aggressive crowds of paparazzi, which were now chasing after Fletcher outside the building. To passersby, the scene was akin to a lynch mob, pitchforks replaced by microphones.  
  


Johnson closed his eyes, lips close to the phone as he longed to kiss his lost love one last time.

**Author's Note:**

> *Footnotes for explanations:
> 
> “…And the British certainly seem to love Dr Karl Kennedy”: This was loosely inspired by an article in regards to Britain recruiting Dr Karl Kennedy from Neighbours in order to encourage people to adhere to strict measures to avoid a second wave. If you are interested, please consult the link below for the article.
> 
> https://www.theage.com.au/world/europe/virus-hit-britain-recruits-dr-karl-kennedy-from-neighbours-20201007-p5631o.html?fbclid=IwAR1T2AQ3-bAACgfmGedOrtCrQeMaP_sTFzrYIk66DvZmwlzA_tT-Ul2MzRI


End file.
